Do not stand at my grave and weep
by redgrass-and-silvertrees
Summary: Kuroba Kaito thought that he had lost the connection to his father when he passed, but taking up the mantel of the Kaitou Kid has somehow made him feel that his father never really left. One-shot.


**911 chapters in and of course I don't own _Detective Conan_ nor it's younger brother, _Magic Kaitou_.**

* * *

><p><em>Do not stand at my grave and weep<em>

Kuroba Kaito used to go visit his father's grave a lot, back when he thought his father was a simple magician who fell victim to a trick gone awry. He never stayed for very long, probably because he was there so often that he soon ran out of things to say to his old man. He would smirk lightly to think that by now his dad would have probably been annoyed by Kaito's constant ramblings about his day, new tricks he was working on or his dreams of the future. Of course the worn gravestone, a permanent reminder of his father's absence, would wipe that grin off of his face and soon enough Kaito would trudge back home. He used to leave the cemetery feeling a lot heavier than when he'd entered. All these visits did was serve to remind him that he _didn't_ know what his father would say anymore, how he would react to the person Kaito was now. It reminded him that no matter how hard he tried to bridge the gap, his father would always be out of reach. And that burned worse than anything.

_I am not there_

But then of course came the day when he stumbled into the mystery room hidden behind the painting in his bedroom and he realized that he hadn't really know his father at all. Clutching the infamous monocle in his hand, the most familiar accessory of the notorious thief Kaitou Kid, Kaito thinks that even the well-worn memories of his dad are just as fake as the magic he's devoted his life to. He shuts his eyes against the stark white room as if it could cause him to forget the large chasm that has now appeared between he and his father's memory. His dad had been an internationally wanted thief in the years leading up to his death; he'd had this whole other life that Kaito never knew about. Which had been real? The Kuroba Toichi of his memories or this elusive phantom he's only just learned about? It's almost enough to break him, to stand there and wonder if he'd ever really had his father's love.

_I do not sleep_

Eventually he relaxes his grip and brings the monocle up to his face, looking through it as his father, the first Kaitou Kid, had before him. It's life changing. It seems stupid and nonsensical, but through that piece of glass Kaito thinks that everything looks just a little bit different, the edges seem crisper and his thoughts a bit clearer. He looks around the room with new eyes seeing not a secret that separated him from his dad, but something to draw them together again after all these years. A secret shared just between them because, like it or not, his father was the Kaitou Kid and if the Kid lived once more wouldn't that mean a little bit of Kuroba Toichi would come back too? He ground his teeth at the thought. He'd always been a bit suspicious of his father's accident and now it seemed he had someone to blame. Magicians, especially magician thieves, did not just suffer accidents like that. No, it was highly possible his father had been murdered and what sort of son would he be if he didn't at least check it out? This time there was no hesitation as Kaito began to methodically slip on the rest of the costume as if it were made for him.

_I am a thousand winds that blow_

Kaitou Kid is not a man, not really, he is the wind and the stars and the smoky reflection of the moonlight against a dark sky. Or at least one Kuroba Kaito does his very best to give that impression to his adoring audience. _But still_, he thinks as he bounds over the rooftops with a lightness to his steps that seems almost unreal. He was bolder as Kid, far more daring than he could ever be as Kuroba Kaito. Kaito was bound by rules, by the thoughtless concerns of society, by the gravity that held him bound to the Earth. But Kid had no need for the constraints of the common man; he made the rules, not obeyed them. He was a specter of the night, someone who only existed under the mystical light of the full moon when anything could happen. The Kid breathed in the deep chill of the late night air as the wind ran it's slippery fingers through his hair and toyed with the charm on his monocle. He smiled at the affectionate touch as his hang glider opened and he let the ground slip away from under him.

_I am the diamond glints on snow_

On most nights, the Kaitou Kid's flashy outfit made him plain for all to see; the shimmering white drawing his audiences' gaze like moths to the flame. He did not mind this and, in fact, he openly encouraged their attentions. He would be a poor performer indeed if he could not keep his crowd captivated. But tonight was one of the very few nights of the year where his costume was concealing, not revealing him to the people who chased after him. It was snowing quite heavily, had been for the last day or so and his stark white outfit blended in perfectly with the snowy landscape. He lightly fingered the jewel in his possession as the police unknowingly ran past his hiding spot. He allowed himself a small grin as he slunk away, taking a precious few moments to bow in appreciation. He could blame freak weather patterns or well-timed heists for this opportunity and yet they weren't the ones he was really thanking. It seemed to him as he slipped away that the moon winked at him in understanding.

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain_

Kaito jerked awake as the light fell upon his eyes and he sat up stiffly, groaning as his back complained over having spent yet another night hunched over a desk. He wearily rubbed at his eyes and ran his hands through his perpetually messy hair. He was used to late nights, even before his unexpected night job but balancing two demanding lifestyles was beginning to take it's toll on him. He blearily sifted through the papers on his desk. He was no closer to finding Pandora, and thus his father's murderers, than he was when he started. Not only that, but trying to keep Aoko from getting worried and avoiding the sharp eyes of Hakuba, Nakamori and now the little Kudo brat was getting tiring. He winced as the burgeoning dawn made its way into his eyes again and he leveled a light glare at his window only to stop and stare. The sky was a cacophony of colors, mixes of reds and yellows, pinks and oranges with little hints of blue shyly peeking through. He smiled as he watched the rest of the sunrise with a smile, knowing that somehow everything would work out. He would keep his lives balanced, see justice served and make things right. He just couldn't forget to appreciate the small things and he was thankful for the reminder.

_I am the gentle autumn rain_

The Kaitou Kid didn't mind the rain, not normally anyway. The effects of the elements didn't really seem to affect him much at all, rain hardly seemed to touch him, neither hot nor cold bothered him and of course he was practically part of the night air. But tonight it was especially slippery out and while the Kid himself would never fall prey to such a mundane slip; he feared for his dogged pursuers. Tonight, it was just him and the little detective sprinting across the rooftop while the sky provided an atmosphere that would not be out of place in a Shakespearean play. So while Kid was plotting escapes routes, cursing that the recently stolen jewel was yet another fake and debating how best to annoy Aoko tomorrow; he was keeping an eye out that his favorite critic wasn't beaten down by the storm. He heard Kudo gasp as the traction under his feet was lost and he drifted perilously close to the roof's edge. With almost inhuman speed, the Kid turned and tugged the shrunken detective back onto solid ground. While Kudo was still panting away the panic of the near slip, Kid was given enough time to escape but he couldn't help his own sigh of relief. That kid was always causing trouble and if he was being honest, he was worried that one day the detective might get in over his head. It was a good thing the brat had not just one but two phantom thieves watching out for him.

_When you awaken in the morning's hush_

Kaito moaned from his bed as he was slowly dragged back into awareness. His vision was swimming and his head felt like he'd gone five rounds with Kudo's girlfriend. He started to sit up only to gasp in pain and collapse back onto the pillows. He looked down at his chest which was covered in white bandages save for a few spots dotted with red. That's right, he'd been shot. He grabbed at his wounded right shoulder which was still hissing in pain from his previous movement. It was a sobering feeling, he had been shot; someone had tried to take his life and had very nearly succeeded. He knew it wasn't luck that saved him, these were professionals and they had already succeeded once in killing the untouchable Kaitou Kid. He gripped his shoulder almost enjoying the pain it brought him. Because pain meant he was alive. Pain meant he would be able to see his mother and Aoko and Jii and Nakamori and even that jerk Hakuba again. Pain meant he had another chance to take down those murdering bastards and get on with his life. He grinned, despite everything. He loved his father and he was glad to be following his path but Kaito wouldn't follow him that far, not yet, not until he'd settled all his debts and given the world one hell of a show. He wasn't ready to join his dad quite yet and, somehow, Kaito didn't think his old man would mind all that much.

_I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight_

While it was usually easy for him to draw a line between Kid and Kaito, there was one person who always managed to blur that line. He hated heists that Aoko attended mostly because he found Kid's attention would waver when he spotted her messy hair in the crowd. No one else had the power to trip him up like Aoko did which always led to rather uncomfortable thoughts that he really oughtn't be having in the middle of a heist. He performed an elegant back handspring away from the Task Force which, coincidentally, placed him on a window sill just above the fiery-eyed girl. He gave a quick annoyed glance out the window towards the moon where it seemed to be glinting knowingly. But still, an opportunity was an opportunity and with a flourish, a dove flew out of his sleeve and dropped a red rose into Aoko's surprised grasp. Her eyes lit up in embarrassment and indignation but by the time she had turned to tear into the cheeky thief, he was already long gone. The chill wind as he lifted himself onto the roof where he could make his escape did nothing cool the heat rushing to his face. As he sailed into the night sky, the stars glittering around him far more beautiful than the diamond in his top pocket, he rolled his eyes. He and his father were going to have to have a talk about all this teasing about Aoko.

_I am the soft stars that shine at night_

Sometimes Kid thinks he likes the hours immediately following the heist better than the heist itself. Oh he loves the thrill, loves watching his artfully planned out performance play out, loves the sound of Nakamori's rage-enhanced swears that leave his ears ringing. But after all that fun, once all the detectives have walked away defeated and the bad guys have skulked back to their lairs; it's just a thief, a jewel, and the moon. Tokyo is quiet now, well it's never _really _quiet but from this high up it seems like the world below him is just a trick of the moonlight and there's really only him. He thoughtlessly juggles with the jewel worth several times his house as he sits in companionable silence. After all the organized chaos that is expected from a Kaitou Kid heist one would think that the thief himself would be bursting with energy, delighting in the thrill of his victory looking for someone to show off to. But instead he feels more at peace than he's any right to feel since he learned of his father's passing. The moonlight ghosts across his uncovered face as a cloud passes by and he smiles at the intimate gesture. Because here on top of the world with naught but the moon as his witness, he knows that he's not really alone and that's what makes those precious hours special.

_Do not stand at my grave and cry_

So another normal day comes and goes, Nakamori Aoko is arguing with Kuroba Kaito on the way home from school about something or other that he did. They bicker and tease and smile knowingly at each other like they do every single day. But this time their energetic chase has brought them on a slightly different route than normal. There was nothing significant about this particular path except that it passes by a quiet cemetery where a certain magician/father/part-time thief dwells. Aoko would remark, quite suddenly as if only just realizing, that her best friend's once frequent visits to his father's grave have dwindled to practically nothing the past year or so. The person in question would shrug lazily, giving some half-hearted excuse before gleefully flipping up Aoko's skirt and successfully distracting her line of inquiry before launching into another enthusiastic fight. It was true though, since taking his father's place as the Kaitou Kid, he hardly ever dropped by this dismal place anymore. It wasn't something he gave much thought about but he supposes it's because he didn't really need to come anymore.

_I am not there_

Kaito knew that things weren't going to be easy on this path he'd chosen. He very well could be captured on his next heist and be shamefully hauled away by Nakamori into the back of a police car. Or worse, be struck down by the same people who'd put an end to his father's tricks as well. His equipment could malfunction, he could be a fraction too slow, a trick could go awry, a disguise would not fool a keen eyed person. There were a million scenarios of things that could happen that would keep most people tucked neatly on the right side of the law. But neither Kaito nor his father had ever been most people. Aoko continued to chase him all the way to his house and, panting up against her door, had quietly asked if he was alright. He'd given her a smile, a nice genuine one which he owed her after all he put her through, and playfully punched her shoulder. Yes there so many ways things could go wrong but it helped to have someone standing in his corner giving him the courage and the confidence to keep those awful consequences at bay. It made it a little more bearable knowing that his dad never really left him.

_I did not die_

Because that was the best part about being Kid. His father, whom he loved and admired more than anyone was dead but that didn't mean he was gone completely. He was out there with Kaito every night helping him do the impossible. He was the wind that swept him safely out of danger on his hang glider. He was the moon which guided his way and would show him when he had achieved his goal. He was the pure white of the cape as he performed a daring move to avoid police capture and the glint of the monocle as it picked up a hidden sniper out of the corner of his eye. Kuroba Kaito didn't need to stand in front of a lifeless, empty stone to know that his father was with him. He just needed to put on that suit and let himself be drawn away from the Earth, into the shimmering night where magicians could fly and miracles could happen. All he needed to do was look and listen and his father would be there beside him.

* * *

><p>It's actually pretty amazing that I've never posted anything for <em>Detective Conan<em> because, if there's any manga that can revival my love for _Fullmetal_, it's this one. Anyway, whilst mindlessly playing about I discovered this poem and this story sprang nearly full-formed into my mind. The muses work in mysterious ways. I really think it works well for Toichi and Kaito and I suspect that Kaito never feels closer to his dearly departed father than when he's antagonizing the police or certain shrunken detectives. Plus writing the mythology of Kid is delightfully fun. Also technically, yes, this story is more rooted in the _Magic Kaitou_ storyline but I am of the firm belief that the MK/DC are the same story just told from different perspectives.


End file.
